James Shipman - Task Force Baum

Baum looked over at the major, his face concentrated in a frown. “You’re right. It’s going to stretch us awful thin. If anything more goes wrong, we’re going to be in a hell of a fix. But we’ve started a real mess for these boys, and we can’t just leave them holding the bag.” He turned to Goode. “I’ll get what food and weapons we can spare and have them brought here. We’ll take as many as we can, but for anyone else who wants to make a run for it, we’ll give them what we’ve got.”

“Thanks, Captain,” said Goode, shaking Baum’s hand. “That’s something at least. I still don’t understand why they sent this little scratch of a force this far behind enemy lines without any support. It doesn’t make any damned sense to me.”

“You’ll have to ask Stiller that question.”

Goode turned to the major, his face thoughtful. “Don’t tell me Patton sacrificed all these men and left us all in a lurch just to bring Waters out?”

Stiller shifted uncomfortably. “We’re not even supposed to be talking about that, Baum.” He looked around at the small group and pointed a finger. “All of you are sworn to secrecy. That’s an order. If you want my opinion, the general screwed this one up. But that’s between us. Bottom line, we’ve all made mistakes. We’ve lost men. We make decisions, we gamble, and in war, the errors add up to dead people. I will tell you this. No way Patton sends this force in knowing there are fifteen hundred people here. He would have sent a whole combat command for sure.”

“That’s what you asked for,” said Hall. “So did Abrams.”

“Shut it, Hall,” snapped Stiller. “That don’t matter. Like I said, we all make mistakes. Sitting here and bitching about it won’t make anyone else alive or any more of these kriegies free. What we need to do is get our asses out of here with as many folks as we can grab, and get our butts back to the line. Once we make it, we can tell Patton the deal. He’ll kick up the attack and get our main force here double quick. It’s the best we can do.”

Hall felt his anger rising again at the general’s stupidity. How dare he send him on this ridiculous raid without sufficient resources. He’d risked the lieutenant’s life recklessly. Now they would be slowed down by too many prisoners, and they weren’t going to bring Waters back. Patton would be pissed and probably in no mood to hand out rewards. He’d put his life on the line for nothing.

As he thought this through, Goode climbed up on one of the Shermans, turning to address the prisoners. He raised his hands, taking several minutes to force the din of cheers down to a level where he could hear himself speak.

“Okay, boys, I’ve got some news.”

“Three cheers for the colonel!” somebody yelled from the crowd. The kriegies erupted in shouts and applause.

“Quiet. Quiet!” shouted Goode. “I’ve got some bad news, and it’s not easy for me to tell you.” That brought silence to the men. Hall could see the confusion in the eyes of the POWs as they waited to hear what Goode had to say.

“I’m going to give it to you straight, the only way I know how. We thought this attack was the main American force, but it’s not. It’s just a small task group, a few hundred men. They came to liberate the camp, but unfortunately the information they had back at base had us numbered at a few hundred. They only brought transportation for that number, and worse yet, they’ve been banged up pretty good getting here.” Goode looked out at the crowd, and Hall could read the misery in his face. “They can only take about two hundred of you with them, maybe a bit more.”

The prisoners exploded in a ruckus of anger and complaints. The mass stormed toward the tank, fists in the air. Goode raised his arms and violently lunged his fists at the crowd, willing them to calm down. The force of his character had its effect, and after a few moments, he could make himself heard again.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” called out one of the men.

“That’s what I’ve been talking to Captain Baum here about. As I figure it, you men have three options. First, the captain will take as many as he can. Second, he’s gathering some weapons and some food. Anyone who wants to try to escape on foot, whether individually or in groups, can see the captain and his men. They’ll set you up with everything they can spare.”

“What’s the third option?” asked the same POW.

“For everyone else, you’ve got to head back to the camp. What was true yesterday is still true now. The war is damned near over. Even if they move you somewhere else, you’ll likely be free in a few weeks, a month at the most.” Goode looked out over the group for a moment, letting the next words hang in the air. “I’ll not lie to you, boys. From where I see it, that’s the safest bet. The task force has a hell of a ways to go, and God knows what’s out there. On foot, you’re less of a target, but fifty miles through hills and over rivers, without maps or much in the way of food or weapons, is maybe a bigger gamble yet. I know it’s the hardest choice, but the best decision might be to head back to the barracks and sit tight.”

At this, the crowd erupted again in frustration. Hall watched the anger as the men shouted, arguing over who would be allowed to go and whether they should just head back to the camp. He checked his watch. It was 1500 hours. He felt impatient. They needed to get going, and the fewer of the POWs they took, the better chance they had of making it back. He turned to the major.

“Shouldn’t we load up and get out of here?” he muttered.

“We will in a few minutes. Look at those poor bastards. We’ve left them in a hell of a situation here.”

“Yes, sir,” responded Hall. “But isn’t the best thing we can do for them to get back to our own lines?”

The major looked over at him sharply, words hanging on his lips, but he seemed to think over Hall’s statement. “You’re probably right. We will do the most for these poor bastards by getting the real army here as soon as we can.” He put a hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder. “You did fine on our way here, Hall. A far sight better than I expected. There’s a man in there after all. I know Patton’s going to be disappointed about Waters, but he’ll be mighty happy to hear how you did out here.”

Hall nodded, feeling elation. Stiller was going to speak on his behalf. Perhaps the whole raid wasn’t a loss. The major was proud of him? What a schmuck. Hot damn. He was so close.

The next hour was wasted. The POWs milled around, arguing and jockeying for position. Hall stared out from his jeep, anger rushing through him. The Germans were closing in from every direction. They had to get out of here as quickly as they could. Couldn’t these men make a decision? Hadn’t they heard their colonel? The best choice was to go back to the camp and wait. Frankly, Hall wished that Baum had refused to bring any of them. Wouldn’t they be better off if the task force escaped and brought the army back here in a day or two? That was best for all of them.

Instead, the men selfishly battled for a spot in the column. Shouting broke out and even a fistfight here and there as men scrambled to secure a precious seat on one of the tanks or in the half-tracks. Some of the infantry brought spare equipment and ammunition to their jeep, stacking the materials in the back and strapping it down, to make room in some of the half-tracks for more men. Their wounded driver was gone. The medics must have moved him to one of the half-tracks. Hall felt relief; with all these supplies, at least they wouldn’t be saddled with any of the POWs in their jeep. He looked at his watch. If only they would hurry.